


Roses

by RefrainGirl



Series: Be My Ineffable Valentine [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: #ineffablevalentines, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley in Love (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Comforting Crowley (Good Omens), Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley's Plants (Good Omens), Don't copy to another site, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Married Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Misunderstandings, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Romantic Gestures, Roses, Time Skips, Valentine's Day Fluff, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens), kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:15:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22531576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RefrainGirl/pseuds/RefrainGirl
Summary: Day 2 of the Ineffable Valentines collection.There was also a card that had arrived with the roses, and he picked it up for the thousandth time that day, reading it with a growing flood of dread. “I will love you until the last rose dies,” he mused, biting nervously at his bottom lip. Of all the arrangements that could be created from the countless words that made up the human language, Crowley had to tell him something like that. Was this really a good sentiment to share with the person you loved? What if the last rose died a week from now? Wouldn’t that mean… wouldn’t Crowley stop loving him once that happened…?Sometimes your romantic gestures fail, no matter how hard you try. This one seems to have done just that, and in a spectacular fashion.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Be My Ineffable Valentine [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619938
Comments: 11
Kudos: 93
Collections: Ineffable Valentines 2020





	Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the second installment, and the fact that I managed to fit angst into a Valentine's Day prompt is astounding. Sorry. I've done it a few more times too, so be prepared for that.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this nonetheless!

The language of flowers wasn’t something that Aziraphale knew much about.

On his desk sat a massive bouquet of crimson roses, the petals still dewy and fresh. A rosy pink ribbon tied their stems together, looped into a beautiful drooping bow, and hiding inside the lush bundle sat two special roses - one black, and the other white. He suspected that they were to represent him and Crowley, but the rest of the meaning was eluding him. Roses had to be romantic, otherwise humans wouldn’t give them to their lovers as gifts for their anniversary or, as was the case here, Valentine’s Day.

There was also a card that had arrived with the roses, and he picked it up for the thousandth time that day, reading it with a growing flood of dread. “I will love you until the last rose dies,” he mused, biting nervously at his bottom lip. Of all the arrangements that could be created from the countless words that made up the human language, Crowley had to tell him something like that. Was this really a good sentiment to share with the person you loved? What if the last rose died a week from now? Wouldn’t that mean… wouldn’t Crowley stop loving him once that happened…?

This concern fueled his urgency to understand what the roses meant. He had to find out why Crowley had brought him an armful of such beauty, only to claim that he would stop feeling anything towards him once they all withered. Aziraphale didn’t want his roses to disappear from this plane of existence. Crowley had probably grown them himself, he had quite the green thumb. If so, then why did he cut their stems and offer their fragile lives as a gift? Oh, it would have been so much more thoughtful to plant them in the ground and leave them to flourish, year after year.

But he couldn’t bring himself to be mad with the demon. He had put a lot of thought into this, that much was obvious. Aziraphale knew that if he said anything on the matter, then he would never receive flowers in this form again. Maybe he would never receive a present ever again, and even though that wasn’t the most important thing to him, he understood exactly how big of a deal it was for Crowley. This was how he expressed himself when words weren’t enough, when there was nothing else to say. So many days he had been there, with a box of chocolates that he had caught Aziraphale eyeing; with a bakery box filled with pastries that he had tried his hand at baking, or…

He sighed, turning to glance over at the roses again. They seemed to be staring him down, all except for the black and white pair. Those two were blessedly silent, ignoring him in a strangely inanimate way, but the others, it felt like they were ladling all of the responsibility for their survival on him. Did Crowley ever feel that heavy kind of burden towards his plants?

The thought wasn’t exactly comforting, and Aziraphale could feel his eyes prickling with unshed tears already. He had to make sure that these roses lived. They had to make it, otherwise his heart might not.

* * *

The angel had been trying to enjoy Crowley’s roses as much as possible, but that was hard to do when he couldn’t look at them for more than a minute without remembering the note. Those cursed words hung in grotesque paintings all over his mind, and it felt like his gaze was drawn to the reality of them with every viewing of Crowley’s present. Already, after a few weeks of caring for them as if they were his own children, there were only three roses left - one droopy, wilting red specimen, the white rose, and its matching black counterpart. Thankfully, the unique ones seemed to be fine, unaltered. Those ones were his favorites.

Aziraphale rested his arms on his desk, putting his chin inside their folded halo until all that was peeking out were his eyes, morose and defeated. The vase that had once been so full of color was dwindling. Soon, far too soon, Crowley would stop loving him. And he wasn’t sure if he could ever bear it.

* * *

The last of the crimson roses faded into obscurity on the very first day of the next month. That had been an extremely depressing moment for the angel, so much so that he hadn’t even bothered to open up the shop for a few days following its departure. Crowley had been worried, coming over every evening to ask what was wrong, if he could help, please just tell me angel. But Aziraphale couldn’t utter a single syllable, couldn’t possibly explain why he was so distraught. He didn’t want Crowley to see how deeply his gift was impacting him. Saying anything about it at all could serve to shut his demon up for good, and that was the last thing he wanted. So it was always the same response: I’m fine, it’s nothing.

All he had now were the special roses, and who knew how long they would survive in his bookshop, devoid of light and everything they needed to thrive.

Still, against all odds, they were here. Giving Aziraphale the tiniest thread of hope.

* * *

He was staring for a long while, too long, at the two roses sitting lopsidedly in his nearly empty vase. They hadn’t needed any kind of watering in the last five months, and despite that they looked absolutely perfect. Beautiful as they day they had arrived. Confusion clouded Aziraphale’s face as he reached up to touch what should have fallen ages ago. Why were they still here, when all the others had long since shriveled up? He wasn’t disappointed by it, but he was extremely curious.

Did Crowley use some kind of demonic magic to prolong their lives…? Probably not, but what could this possibly mean? The phrasing of the note briefly entered his thoughts and for the first time since the flowers had entered his shop, those words teased a smile to form on his lips. There was no despair to be had that night.

* * *

It was Valentine’s Day again, and Aziraphale stepped over to briskly arrange the roses sitting in his vase. People had been inquiring about them a lot lately, asking why there were only two in such a big vase. A full bouquet would look nicer, some said, and Aziraphale simply told them the truth. These were special to him. He couldn’t replace them with another group of roses, not after the first ones had winked out, one by one. He only kept the black and white pair because they were a symbol of what he had with his true love, and he knew with a strange certainty that they would never disappear on him.

The petals on each rose had collected a thin sheen of dust over the course of the year, but they were still going strong. Somehow.

_I will love you until the last rose dies._

That note almost seemed nonsensical now, but the angel did occasionally worry that something might still happen to his roses to make it a reality. He never wanted Crowley to stop loving him, not now and not ever.

* * *

“Why would you _ever_ think I’d stop loving you, angel!? Who told you that!? If I find the guy who - ”

“No, no. You’re sniffing up the wrong tree, Crowley.”

“Barking, Aziraphale. It’s barking,” he sighed, although the correction was not anywhere near as significant as what he had just heard spilling from his darling angel’s mouth.

Crowley tore his glasses straight off of his face, peering so intently at Aziraphale that he felt like he was starting to go cross-eyed. The absolute shock in his voice was thick, palpable. “Seriously… What brought this on?”

They had been sitting on the couch - or, well, Aziraphale had been sitting while Crowley was more along the lines of ‘sprawling’ with his head cradled in his lap - chatting about what they might do for Valentine’s Day, when his angel had almost hesitantly asked if he loved him.

Why would he say no to that? Why would his angel, capital H and capital A, feel like he should be worrying about that kind of thing _at all_!? It was insane, unheard of, ridiculous! Absolutely absurd!

He sat up a little, bringing his hand comfortingly to the soft cheek. “Hey. C’mon, talk to me,” he begged. The wrinkles of worry lining his forehead deepened as his angel burrowed into the warmth of his palm, like he was relieved that he could still call it his. “Aziraphale, you’ve been acting weird on and off ever since last Valentine’s Day. Did I do something? If I messed up somehow, I really didn’t mean it! Honest, I…”

But Aziraphale was vigorously shaking his head before he could finish. “It’s nothing you need concern yourself over, Crowley!”

“... I don’t get it.” With a grunt, he pushed himself up onto his elbow, bringing his nose close enough to nuzzle the angel’s neck. “Whatever it is that made you afraid to lose me, I promise that you won’t. Not ever. I’m pretty sure I’ve said this before, but I’m lookin’ forward to spending eternity with you. Why the Heaven would I want to be anywhere else but here?”

Much to the demon’s relief, admitting that seemed to calm Aziraphale down a little. He let out a huff, his arms coming around Crowley and pulling him close in a way that made every single beat of his heart echo in his ears. “I feel the same, you know,” he mumbled.

“Good,” Crowley whispered back, a low chuckle shaking his chest. “I knew that, ‘course I did, but I still love hearin’ it.”

“Mm.” His angel smiled into his hair, squeezing him gently. “Dearest?”

How he loved being called that. Crowley hummed contentedly. “Yes, angel?”

“I don’t suppose you’d mind telling me what the black and white roses mean? It’s only been a year since you sent me that cryptic card.”

“What?” He blinked in surprise. “Whaddya mean cryptic? How was that cryptic!?”

Aziraphale stared down at him, admonishment washing over his features after being carried by a tide of disbelief. “I will love you until the last rose dies? What kind of a thing is that to say to the person you love? How was I to know that those roses you grew were magically enhanced? Do you realize how stressed I was, trying to keep those poor flowers alive so that I wouldn’t lose your love? I mean, really Crowley!”

Oh. OH. So THAT was the reason for _THAT_. He sucked his lips in, realizing with a disgusted, sinking guilt that he really was the culprit behind all the negativity. Ughh, he _had_ actually messed up, Aziraphale was just too considerate to say anything to him about the matter. Damn it.

After taking a moment to compose himself, Crowley sighed, the smallest frown curling his lips. “Sorry... Didn’t think you’d read into it so wro - er, seriously.”

“I take every bit of you very seriously, which is why I was in a state of panic for a year or more,” he huffed, seeming of half a mind to cuff the side of the demon’s head. “You could show a little more sympathy towards my situation. It wouldn’t hurt you, Crowley.”

He raised his hands, hoping to be able to fend off the half-hearted smacks if they did come, and he earnestly digressed into a full on apology after hearing that. “I am being sympathetic. That really wasn’t my intention, angel. ‘M sorry, truly am. I should’ve given you more specifics, I guess.”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows in a delightful little arch. “Yes, you should have,” he said, frowning as Crowley rolled his eyes at the attitude. “I’m not the one who has centuries of experience with plant flora. That’s more your department.”

“Okay, I made a mistake! People make mistakes!”

“You’re a demon.”

“Demons make mistakes, too! Remember the Antichrist mix-up?”

“That _was_ mostly you, wasn’t it?”

“And Hastur! Bloody Hastur…”

Crowley sunk deeper into the cushions. “My point is…” He paused to glance up into his angel’s eyes, and his tone became heartbreakingly sincere. “I didn’t mean to make you worry about us. Wasn’t the plan, at all. So… ‘m sorry. And I love you, more than anything or anyone else.”

Just to provide a little bit more proof to put Aziraphale at ease, he reached over to twirl the ring on his finger about. It had been given to him along with his angel’s proposal, and was now a facet that could not be removed. He wouldn’t abide that. No way was he ever going to be caught dead without his wedding ring.

Aziraphale was observing his handling of the ring, and Crowley smiled slightly to see him fidgeting with his own matching one. “The Romans considered roses to be associated with Aphrodite and Venus, y’know,” he said, pretending to be offhand about it. “They were the goddesses of love, thus roses became symbols of love, and still are.”

Wide, engaging eyes blinked down at him. “Is… is that so?”

“Yup. Red roses are the most common. They’re for expressing enduring passion, obviously. White ones are for humility and innocence, and the black rose… well, generally it represents death.”

Crowley noticed the horror on his angel’s face and shushed him with a gentle kiss. “Easy, I wasn’t done yet. The black rose has other, nicer meanings to it, too. Just ‘cause it represents death doesn’t mean it has to be about the death of a person. I like to think of it as heralding the death of older ways of thinking. After that, there’s lots of room for the birth of new ideas, new hopes and joys that couldn’t have existed before. It’s more about the beginning of something fresh, about courage and the strength to carry on into the unknown. You get my drift?”

Those gorgeous eyes sparkled, enveloped him with such warmth, such unwavering tenderness, that Crowley felt like he might never climb out of the depths of his angel’s love. Which was fine. He didn’t want to escape from this. “So the black rose was meant to be you, after all,” Aziraphale crooned, making the demon’s cheeks flame from the implication. “I thought as much. The white one is me, isn’t it?”

“However you wanna interpret it,” Crowley mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought it’d be a good way to show how much I love you, but that backfired horribly.”

“It didn’t.” Aziraphale poked his fingertips together sheepishly. “I just misunderstood you, dear, and I am sorry for that.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry for. You never told me what was up till now.” He crossed his arms, frowning irritably at his angel. “Next time, just ask if you don’t get it! Can’t help ya if you don’t ask questions, angel.”

A soft smile overtook him, and he nodded. “Right. It will take some getting used to, I imagine, but… I can definitely do that. Oh, by the way, how did you make those roses live for so long? They don’t take water or sunlight or anything! It’s quite miraculous, if I dare say so myself.”

At last, the wall of seriousness broke down. Crowley snorted. “They’re plastic,” he said, grinning like a mad Cheshire cat.

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. “Wh… plastic?” His mouth fell open. “Those aren’t real roses!?”

“Of course not! Sata - Go - hah, Someone’s sake! I bought those at the pound shop!”

Roaring with laughter, Crowley clutched hard at his stomach. “And - so - you mean - hehe - you watered plastic roses!? For a whole year!?”

Aziraphale pouted. “It isn’t that funny, Crowley,” he sulked.

“Sure it is! I can’t - I just can’t believe - ” He let out another amused snort before taking a few moments to catch his breath. Once he did, he beamed up at the angel. “That’s actually real sweet of you, not gonna lie. I kinda feel bad about leading you on.”

“And so you should, you fiend,” he scolded him, in a voice that didn’t quite manage to sound upset. Crowley was pleased to see that he was sharing in the amusement, at least a bit. “Why ever would you deceive me like that? What was the purpose?”

His grin softened, and he rolled his shoulders in a tiny shrug. “Well, I did say I’d love you till the last rose dies,” he said. “I bought that bouquet particularly for the occasion, and - ”

“You bought all those roses? Not just the fake ones?”

“Yeah,” Crowley said, cocking an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t wanna cut up a bunch’a my own plants just to be romantic! That’s a sick thing to do, angel. They’re scared enough as it is!”

Aziraphale didn’t say anything, merely smiled fondly at the demon as he continued with his explanation. “But anyway, I didn’t want your li’l white rose to get lonely, so I figured a companion might be nice. 6,000 years going on infinity doesn’t sound like a lot of fun when you’re alone, right?”

“Oh? Oh my. I see.”

The angel’s eyes widened with sudden clarity, and the smile from earlier had returned, near blinding in its intensity. “Crowley, I shudder to think what my life would be like without you in it. I fear that everything would lose its color if you weren’t around, and I rather enjoy color. Especially red.”

He had said that while running affectionate fingers through Crowley’s hair, and it warmed his heart to insane degrees. Red was his color. Aziraphale loved something other than tartan and cream, and what he loved turned out to be the one color that Crowley approved of other than black. He practically purred in bliss. “Noted. Duly noted. Never gonna forget that, ever. Now get your arse down here and kiss me properly.”

**Author's Note:**

> By the way, I did a brief amount of reading on flower meanings for this thing. Apparently the sizes of the stems have meanings too, along with petal colors and which flowers end up in the bouquet, but I wanted to keep it simple (mostly for my own sake lol). Hopefully the details I did put in are correct, but if you guys notice anything wrong let me know and I'll fix it. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Come and say hi on Tumblr!
> 
> You can find me at my main blog [@refraingirl](https://refraingirl.tumblr.com/) or at my writing blog [@refraingirl-the-writer](https://refraingirl-the-writer.tumblr.com/)!


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